Tiger Eyes

by Kimberly Nee

  The very thought of Carmichael in her cabin, sleeping in her bunk, made her want to retch. When she returned to the Galatea, she would personally scrub the cabin from rafter to floor.

  Another glance at the door. She had to try.

  To her relief, the handle turned easily and the door opened without a sound. The corridor was dark and quiet, as everyone was no doubt fast asleep.

  She wanted only to leave. It would take until dawn to reach London, but she could lose herself there very easily. By the time William woke, as he was a late riser, she would be safe aboard the Perseus. Or, if she was feeling daring, she could steal back her own ship.

  No, she wasn’t daring. She was angry. First things first. She would take back what was rightfully hers. Then she would confront both William and Carmichael.

  That in mind, she forgot the pain in her cheek and hurriedly tugged on stockings and boots. Without so much as a backward glance, she turned the door handle and left the room.

  The house was silent and dark, and she swept noiselessly down the curving staircase to the entrance. Her boot heels clicked softly against the marble, but the sound echoed loudly through the empty space, and she froze.

  Silence.

  Tiptoeing to the front doors, she paused to grip the door handles and turned. The only sound was a soft whoosh as the doors opened, and she was about to breathe a soft sigh of relief when a hand clamped down on her shoulder and an evil purr sounded against her ear.

  “Leaving so soon, little sister?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Rain fell softly but Diego ignored it as he stood at the bow of the Serena while his crew hurried to toss the lines to moor the ship in its berth in the Markham slip at the Rotherhithe docks. It was his first time seeing London and his initial response was to feel closed in. He’d been to cities in the English colonies and on the islands, but none compared to London by far.

  The ship bumped gently against the dock, and Diego turned to Antonio Vargas, the Serena’s captain. “You will go and speak with the harbormaster. I want no trouble while we are here.”

  Antonio nodded. “Of course, Captain Santa Cruz.”

  Iñigo was the one who suggested Diego allow the Serena’s usual captain to remain at the helm. A wise decision by half, as it left his mind uncluttered enough to concentrate on what he would say to Gabby when he finally found her. Somehow, having already told her how he felt, saying I love you, just didn’t seem to have the impact it once would have.

  Perhaps he would go with his second notion, which was to simply find a magistrate to marry them as soon as possible.

  He smiled as he lifted his chin to tilt his face to the rain. His wife. As she should have become five years ago.

  Impatience thrummed through him as he waited for the gangplank to be lowered. When it finally was, he made his way down and came face to face with one of the many wanton women winding through the sailors and vendors spread up and down the docks.

  She was tall and willowy, with copper-colored hair piled high atop her head. Neither old nor young, she wasn’t entirely unattractive, though her face was definitely hardened by her choice of work. “Good day, m’lord.” Without waiting for his response, she slipped her arm through his. “Care to buy a drink for a lady?”

  Diego pulled himself free. “I think not.”

  “Captain Santa Cruz!”

  He turned as Antonio huffed up to him. “What is it?”

  Antonio barely came up to Diego’s chin, and he was sweating despite the damp chill in the air. “Captain Sebastiano said he would join you in a minute.”

  Diego swallowed the oath rising to his lips. It was enough that, at the last moment, Iñigo insisted on sailing to England with him. That Iñigo insisted on being his shadow as well was enough to sour his mood. He nodded brusquely, folding his arms over his chest. “Very well. If you’d be so kind, tell him I’ll not wait more than five minutes more for him to grace me with his presence.”

  “M’lord?” The woman attempted to slip her arm through his again. “A drink?”

  “And I want you to use my exact words, Antonio.” Diego shooed him off, then glanced down at the hand on his arm. This time, he was not so gentle as he shook her off. “My lady, I’ve already said no. Do not touch me again.”

  She sniffed and stalked away. Diego felt like sniffing as well as he tapped his foot and fought the urge to simply leave Iñigo on board the Serena.

  Finally, Iñigo appeared, striding down the gangplank with the large peacock feather in his hat dancing jauntily with each step. Neither one of them would blend in with the English. Oh, their breeches were as snug as an Englishman’s, but where the men around them wore brightly colored velvet coats with wide, flared skirts, Diego and Iñigo wore flowing silk shirts in sedate midnight blue and dove gray, respectively. They were positively dull compared to the fine fops around them. With the exception of Iñigo’s flamboyant hat, of course. Though Diego wore one similar, it was not nearly as grandiose. His held a smaller, white ostrich feather. Iñigo more than made up for his own plainness.

  “I am perfectly capable of finding Gabby on my own, you know.”

  Iñigo chuckled, both hands resting on the intricately crafted gold hilt of the sword resting at his right hip. “I know this, as you’ve made it abundantly clear. However, a change of scenery was exactly what I needed.”

  “Finn was making you insane, was she?” Diego asked mildly.

  “She has been since Adeline turned up on our doorstep a weepy mess.”

  Diego sighed softly as Iñigo fell into step beside him, and they made their way from the docks toward the large weathered warehouse bearing the name, Markham Enterprises. “Will I be on the receiving end of another lecture?”

  “Not if you return a married man, you won’t.”

  Diego laughed as his own sword bumped his right thigh. There was only the slightest twinge from time to time in that leg, as his wound was almost completely healed. “Why do I not believe that? Somehow, I think Finn is not about to forgive me for not falling madly in love with Adeline.”

  “Give her some time,” Iñigo replied as they made their way through the crowds milling about. There were many cargo ships off-loading the contents of their holds, but there were also quite a few passenger ships disembarking as well. He paused to glance back as a young woman and her chaperone scurried past them.

  “Finn would box your ears for that,” Diego said as they both paused to admire the passing view. It was difficult not to, considering how well the latest fashion emphasized the beauty of the female form. The woman’s gaily colored confection of silk was low-cut and form-fitting. Her bustled skirts swayed invitingly as she swept by them, but she paused, and grinned knowingly over one shoulder.

  He nudged Iñigo sharply in the ribs. “Enough ogling. Try not to forget, you have a lovely wife awaiting your return.

  Iñigo jerked back, not at all abashed. “I have not forgotten, but I have not died, either. A pretty piece is a pretty piece, despite my marital status. And besides—” he grinned at Diego, “—you looked just as I did.”

  “Ahhh, but the difference is, I am not yet married.”

  “Trust me, once you are, you will realize that other women do not simply cease to be. Although they do pale in comparison.”

  “They pale now,” Diego remarked.

  Before Iñigo could reply, they reached the Markham warehouse. The offices were on the second story, so Diego mounted the stairs with Iñigo right behind him.

  The office door was closed, but not locked, and when Diego threw it open, two very surprised looking men jerked up in their chairs. They were dressed not as gentlemen, but as sailors, in buff-colored breeches and wrinkled tunics.

  “Is William Markham in?” Diego asked as he and Iñigo stepped into the office. He didn’t wait to be invited, didn’t care if he was, but strode over to the men and stood before the larger of the two, legs shoulder-width apart, hands resting on the hilt of his sword.

  “Lord
’ampton, you mean?” The man rose to skirt the large desk. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and there was a dark smudge across the front of his gray shirt.

  “M’name’s Quinn. Lord ’ampton don’t dirty his hands wi’ Markham’s day t’day workin’s.”

  “Then where might I find Lord Hampton?”

  Quinn didn’t flinch, but held Diego’s stare easily, his eyes the same shade of gray as his tunic. “I don’t know where ’e be.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Aye.”

  Diego tightened his hand about his sword’s hilt. “Perhaps you might tell me where I can find his sister. Lady Hampton?”

  Quinn chuckled. “Ain’t no Lady ’ampton.”

  Diego’s gut tightened. Impervious little man and damn the silly English titles that made no sense to him. He was tired, frustrated and impatient enough to not care how rude he sounded as he grabbed Quinn by his wrinkled shirtfront and yanked him clear off his feet to meet Diego’s angry glare. “You will tell me where I will find your precious lord, or I will take you apart.”

  “Ah-ah,” Iñigo intoned as Quinn’s partner rose from his chair. In one fluid motion, Iñigo drew his sword to press the tip into the man’s chest. “I’d not do that if I were you, my friend. I should hate to see your pretty white shirt stained with your blood.”

  “Easy, Ellis,” Quinn muttered, and his eyes narrowed at Diego. “Ye mean Miss Mark’am?”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.” It was difficult to ignore the sudden flutter in his gut. They were close. In no time at all, he would have Gabby back in his arms. This time, he would not let her go.

  “I-I don’t know where she is. She ain’t been in England in nearly five years. Ain’t no one’s seen ’er.”

  “Her ship is moored in your harbor, is it not? The Galatea?”

  He nodded. “Yes. But it ain’t ’er ship. Cap’n Carmichael’s at ’er ’elm now.”

  Ellis cleared his throat. “She was lost at sea.” He visibly relaxed as Iñigo lifted his sword blade from his chest. “Cap’n Carmichael found the Galatea adrift.”

  “A lie.” Diego released Quinn, almost tossed him back into his chair, and unsheathed his sword. “And I have no patience for liars, and even less for those who withhold information from me.”

  Quinn’s eyes went perfectly round as the steel bit into the base of his throat. “That be all I know, m’lord. I swear.”

  “I am not a lord, nor do I wish to be addressed as one. I want to know where I can find William Markham and you will tell me or, so help me, I’ll run you through right this minute. Now, be quick, as I am about out of patience.”

  Before Quinn could reply, Ellis’s words tumbled over themselves in his haste. “Hampton House’s in Lindrington. ’Bout five miles outside the City. Jus’ past Vauxhall.”

  “I thank you.” Diego stepped back and re-sheathed his sword. “As for us, we were never here. You do understand.”

  Quinn nodded. “O-of course.”

  Diego turned and stalked out of the office and down the stairs, Iñigo right behind him. Now that they were even closer, he didn’t want to waste another minute with the lackeys. He wanted to close the distance between them and Lindrington as soon as possible.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Diego hadn’t anticipated the other delays that would pop up to waylay them until the next morning, such as the storm that rolled in to douse London with a steady, soaking rain. Or the difficulties in procuring horses to take them to Hampton House. Or how they would be eyed with such suspicion that very few people were willing to speak with them long enough to offer up directions.

  “We could go back and ask our friends dockside,” Iñigo suggested.

  “I’ve a feeling they will have made themselves scarce. Or will have the constable waiting for us this time.”

  “Yes, well, threatening to run a man through does tend to make him less willing to help you a second time around, I suppose.”

  Diego couldn’t hold back his burst of laughter. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

  “Very well. The rain has finally stopped. Perhaps we should go before it starts again.” Iñigo squinted at the thick, ominous gray clouds billowing overhead. “As it would appear another storm is imminent.”

  Diego agreed and with that, they were on horseback, navigating the muddy, rutted road out of London toward Kingston.

  The rain made the dank chill even worse. Gabby shivered, rubbing her hands up and down along her arms to no avail. Shivering sent fresh aches coursing through her, and no matter how close she sat to the fire, the chill refused to abate.

  The house seemed even larger and more foreboding than ever, and it was the first time she realized how lonely such a place could be. They were far enough outside Town to make it seem as if they were cut off from the rest of civilization. Even if she made it out of the house, William would no doubt nab her before she reached London. It was the only reason she wasn’t locked in her chambers.

  She sat in the library, stared at the fire, and tried not to think about her father or her mother or how the only family she had left was disappointed because she hadn’t died at sea. The only reason she wasn’t worried for her life was because William stood to gain nothing by her death. Markham was his on paper. He held the majority of the shares. Surely the business padded his coffers in a way that her inheritance wouldn’t.

  The sound of hoofbeats reached her ears and she moved to the wall of windows to peer through them. Two men on horseback came up the drive, and her heart skipped a beat as the horses were drawn up and both men dismounted. She couldn’t see their faces beneath the brims of their plumed hats, but they were both exceptionally tall and broad. Associates of her brother, no doubt. Foreigners, judging by their decidedly non-English attire.

  Still, as the knocker sounded, she moved to the doorway to peer out. From her vantage point, she had a clear view of the front doors.

  Garrison emerged from the music room and walked to the doors to tug them open. “May I help you?”

  “I am looking for William Markham, and you will tell me where to find him.”

  Though she could not make out the men’s faces, a chill raced through her at the accented English caressing her ears. It was the same accent she’d heard many times before. She knew that voice. Knew it well, in fact.

  But it simply wasn’t possible.

  Was it?

  “I beg your pardon?” Garrison asked.

  Both men then drew swords to press into Garrison’s chest. She darted from the library, boot heels clattering like gunbursts against the marble as she sprinted down the corridor to the front doors. It wasn’t possible, but she had to make certain her ears played tricks on her.

  “Stand down at once.” She skidded to a halt beside Garrison and pushed him back away from the blades. As he stumbled back, she whipped about. “What the devil are—” The words died on her lips as she found herself face to face with the one man she thought she’d never see again. Her ears were not playing tricks on her. “Diego?”

  His eyes softened, but for only a moment, then they were hard. Hard and furious. “Who put their hands on you?”

  Garrison’s surprise wore off and he puffed up as he said, “Lord Hampton will be most put out by this intrusion—”

  Iñigo stepped into the entry, around Diego, to face Garrison. “You will go and fetch your lord when I tell you to.”

  “I’ll ask only once more,” Diego growled, his free hand coming up to catch her by the chin. “Who put their hands on you?”

  Her mouth went dry, but still she hissed as he pressed into the healing bruise on her cheekbone. Finding her voice, she croaked, “Why are you here?”

  “Gabby…”

  She found comfort in his anger on her behalf. His thumb brushed along her jawline and her throat squeezed shut, making it painful to whisper, “William.”

  “Hijo de perra,” Diego growled. He lifted his furious gaze from her to Iñigo. Gabby didn’t understand a word of
what he said as he rattled off something in Spanish. Iñigo nodded and re-sheathed his sword.

  “You will take me to your Lord Hampton. Now.” Iñigo caught Garrison’s upper arm with one hand, and gestured toward the rear of the house with an exaggerated politeness. “And Captain Carmichael as well.”

  Garrison pressed his lips together. “I think not.”

  “Garrison,” Gabby winced as her voice broke, cleared her throat, and tried again. “Please, Garrison. It is all right. These men are friends of mine.”

  His forehead smoothed, but he didn’t look entirely comfortable. “If you are certain, Miss Markham.”

  “I am.”

  A heavy sigh. “Very well.”

  As Garrison led Iñigo from the entry, she turned back to Diego and her eyes stung with tears as she murmured, “How did you know I was here?”

  Diego slid his blade back into the scabbard at his hip and caught her face between both hands. “Because I asked. The Perseus was bound for Carolina, so that is where I went. There, I learned she was bound for London. And here I am.”

  “Why?”

  His fingers brushed her cheeks. “Why do you think?”

  She couldn’t catch her breath as her heart raced almost out of control. “Diego, I—”

  He cut her off by tilting her head back and covering her lips with his. Butterflies beat mighty wings deep inside her as she leaned into him, her fingers curled about his thick wrists. It was the softest, most sensual kiss she’d ever received, his lips warm and tender as they caressed hers.

  Her pulse beat like thunder in her ears as he released her face to ease his arms about her and lifted her up against him. She slid her arms about his neck, thrust her fingers into the thick fall of his hair, twisted, and held on as he broke the kiss to whisper, “Does this mean you are happy to see me?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Because I’m in love with you.”

  “Diego—”

  “No.” He tightened his arms about her. “Don’t tell me why I shouldn’t be, or why I can’t be, because I am. And I want you to come home with me. As my wife.”